Defenders of Gotham: A Batman SYOC
by TheLoneClone
Summary: After the Dark Knight of Gotham City disappears, the government offices of Gotham call together a band of anti-heroes and vigilantes to battle the criminal underworld of Gotham and search for the Batman before Gotham falls into the hands of crime for good. Rated T for graphic scenes of violence, suggestive themes, and language. ***SYOC CLOSED***
1. Introduction

Harvey Dent rubbed his temples again. It had been several nights since he had had any sleep. Early polls were coming in regarding the election for Gotham mayor, and things weren't looking to pretty to the district attorney.

Ever since Bruce Wayne left town on a business trip two weeks earlier, Harvey had seen a downfall in his political campaign.

Former loyal voters were now switching to the side of Harvey's opponent, Samuel Miles, because of Bruce's leaving and the ceasing of his support ads to Harvey's campaign. Even the support of current mayor Hamilton Hill was not enough to have Harvey gain enough extra support.

A knock sounded on Harvey's door. The DA sighed, slowing his rubbing. "Come in."

The door opened slowly and Commissioner James Gordon, head of the Gotham City Police Department, stepped in. At his side were officers Renee Montoya and Joshua Green; many considered them to be the final "good cops" of the GCPD.

Gordon was holding his hat in both hands, digging his fingers into it. "Mr. Dent," he said quietly. "Good day."

Harvey stood up, offering a fake smile and his hand. Gordon accepted both and shook Harvey's hand, smiling back. "Hey, Commissioner." As the two stopped shaking, Harvey slumped back into his chair. "How's the fight against crime going?"

Gordon sighed, placing his hat on Harvey's desk. "Terribly. Criminals have taken an advantage with the disappearance of the Batman."

Quietly, Montoya butted in. "He certainly helped a lot."

The three men nodded in agreement. "Yes," Gordon said. "And the corruption of most of the GCPD hasn't helped in many ways."

Harvey looked up to the commissioner. "You can't do anything about it?"

Gordon shook his head. "No. If we got rid of the corrupt members of the department, we'd lose _at least_ three quarters of our officers. And God knows how long it'd take to get replacements in. They'd probably be just as bad, and the crime rings in Gotham would take this chance. At least the image of these cops we have now will make them take notice, even though many are slipping to the wrong side."

Harvey cupped his hand around his chin. "Is there anything we _can_ do?"

A small smile flickered across Gordon's lips. "Yes." He turned to Montoya. "Renee, give him the setup."

The younger officer stepped forward, resting her hands on her shapely hips. "Commissioner Gordon has come up with a plan: gather together a team of vigilantes—similar to the Batman—to fight crime in Gotham."

Harvey raised his hand. "Vigilantes? As in anti-heroes?"

Montoya nodded. "Yes, sir."

"But most of them probably have criminal records!"

"Maybe so, but who better to face criminals than other criminals?"

Harvey stroked his chin. "I don't know…it could be risky. What if these 'vigilantes' turn out to be doing this as double agents? They could turn against us in a flash." He snapped his fingers just as he uttered the final word.

Gordon answered the DA. "I feel that's a risk we may need to take."

Harvey thought on the matter for a moment. He finally answered: "All right, do it. I just hope that this thing doesn't go south."

Montoya grinned to Gordon as she turned and strode back to Green's side. The commissioner grasped his hat, nodding to Harvey as he tugged it on. "Thanks, Harvey. We'll be sure to keep this in line."

As Montoya and Green exited the room, Harvey beckoned to Gordon. "Jim," the DA muttered, standing. Gordon stepped towards him. "Yes?"

Harvey rested his open palms on the desk before him. "There's just one proposition I need to make."

* * *

 _Bang!_

The gunshot slammed right into the forehead of Batman. The cloaked figure toppled over onto his back as the Joker stepped forward, a smoking revolver in hand.

The Clown Prince of Crime gave the limp dummy a kick to the side, sending the stuffed body rolling. "What a shame the Bat's gone and disappeared!" he exclaimed, blowing the smoke away. Quickly, he tossed his weapon aside and ran a hand through his messy, green hair. "I had _so_ much I wanted to do to him."

The pale-skinned criminal turned on his heel, stepping towards an old battered desk stashed in the corner of his office. Actually, it wasn't much of an office—just an old room in the back of his worn-down warehouse home.

The Joker grabbed a stack of papers, shuffling through them. On each one, a picture was displayed alongside rows of characters detailing the person it was for. Each one was to a freelance thug or hitman. The Joker beamed with a wide, toothy grin.

"I'll just have to draw him out, I suppose," he continued, rubbing his pointed chin. His red lips tugged upwards into a wild smile as a cackle emitted from his throat. It echoed throughout the warehouse for a minute before it quieted down once more.

The Joker had a plan.

* * *

 **Well, here it is. The beginning of** ** _Defenders of Gotham_** **, my Batman SYOC. I want to thank everyone who submitted a character for this story—I got a great cast for this adventure, and I cannot wait to start the stories of each and every one of these heroes and villains. If you have any questions, send them to me in a PM. And please, leave a rating and review! Thanks for reading, and I hope to see you in the next chapter, where the new characters start to roll in.**


	2. Raze Landon-Wayne

The silent figure crept towards the edge of the building's ledge, raising one foot onto it. With the eyes hidden behind his dark mask, Raze Landon-Wayne searched for the tiniest thing out of place in the dark streets of Gotham. Nothing came out in the open, so he began to think.

Often, when he was alone—which was quite a bit of the time—Raze wondered where his adopted father, Bruce Wayne, was. Ever since he was seven, Raze had been taken in by Bruce and made a member of the Wayne family. When he was twelve, Raze learned of Bruce's alter ego and for two years trained and, when he was fourteen, took the identity of the Bat Teen.

He himself didn't think it was that bad for the time being, but he could tell from the scowl on Bruce's face when he heard the name mentioned that he wanted it changed. When Raze was sixteen, Bruce came out and flatly told him, "Change the damn name." So, Raze did as he was told.

He became the Blue Bat.

Bruce had been gone on a business meeting—or so he had told Alfred to tell Gotham. Raze was pretty sure that it had to do with his identity as the Batman, but he didn't let on. Now, after three months of Bruce's departure, Raze wished that he had found out the real reason that Bruce had left.

Raze lifted his head, gazing out at the moon's dim light as it shined through the night sky. The seventeen-year-old slowly gulped. It had dawned on him before that at the moment, he was Gotham's only hero. Now, he thought of it again.

And back to the time when his life changed forever.

* * *

"Raze!"

The voice of Rain Hills rang throughout the house. It wasn't necessarily a yell, but it was the loudest whisper that Raze had ever heard before. The young, African-American boy turned the corner, an action figure clasped in his hand.

"Yes, Daddy?" Raze asked quietly. He could tell by the look on his father's face that something was wrong.

"Raze—you know the secret room, in my study?"

Raze quickly nodded. It was pretty much a safe; the valuables of the Hills family were hidden inside. "Good. Get in there, and stay there until I come get you."

"Where's Mommy? And Sun?" Images of his mother and five-year-old brother shot through Raze's mind.

Rain's eyes glanced to the stairs. "They're coming down. Just get in the room."

That's when Raze heard what had been troubling Rain; banging sounded upstairs, then a loud crash as the upstairs' window broke. Lilly Hills's scream echoed throughout the house, and then a gunshot quickly followed. Both Rain and Raze stood, frozen in awe as Sun, Raze's brother, yelled out, "Mommy!"

Another gunshot, another scream.

Rain got down quickly, shaking Raze back into life. "Raze! Listen to me. Get to the room. Now."

Raze nodded and took off down the hallway towards the study where the room was. He turned to look over his shoulder as Rain went to an end table near the front door, where his father's pistol was waiting, loaded. As Rain pulled it out, Raze ducked into the study. He moved to the back of the room, where a six foot painting stood against the wall. He pulled it back slowly, revealing the metal door to the secret room. Raze turned the lock into the combination his father had told him.

A _ping_ told him that the combination was right. As the door swung open, Raze ducked inside and cut on the dim light inside, just as another gunshot sounded. This one was different. It was his father firing this time.

 _Bang! Bang!_

Two more shots. A grunt sounded from outside the secret room, outside the study. It was Raze's father.

He had been shot.

Footsteps sounded as the man—whoever he was—entered the hallway. Three more shots, in rapid succession. Rain screamed out in pain as Raze heard his limp body thud against the ground. For safety, Raze tugged the action figure he held tightly to his chest.

The man moved around quietly. Suddenly, Raze heard him rummaging through drawers in the hallway. More shuffling steps. The man was in the study.

As he looked in the drawers there, a loud bang sounded from the other end of the house. Raze thought it might be the police. But no; the cop shows on TV always had the cops yelling, "Hold it! Police!"

There was no voice sounding besides the intruder uttering a curse.

The man took more steps closer to the doorway of the study, when all of a sudden he screamed and fired the rest of the clip in his gun. A clatter sounded, and Raze figured he must've dropped the gun. Then, a loud thud.

A grunt escaped the man's lips. Then a punch sounded, followed by another. "No, please—" the man pleaded, but another punch was heard.

"Shut up," a gruff voice muttered. Raze's eyes widened as he heard the voice. It wasn't like one he had heard before. There was a growl and a certain fierce edge behind it. The intruder yelled something at whoever had punched him and a few wisps were heard in the air as he threw his own fists. But he was no match for his opponent; another pair of punches, and the man thudded against the floor.

Raze heard his breath catch up in his throat when the footsteps of whoever had beaten up the intruder moved closer to the secret room's door.

The young boy gulped when, all of a sudden, a _snap_ sounded. Whoever it was had tore the picture apart and flung it aside. That's when Raze realized he hadn't fully closed the door. He raised his hand up, but he was too late. It slowly opened up and, standing there before Raze, was a legend.

It was the Batman.

Raze's jaw dropped open and he let his figure fall to the floor. Batman simply narrowed his eyes. They weren't like normal eyes; no pupils were seen, just two shining white blocks that squinted when his eyes should've. Slowly, he bent down and grasped the toy and handed it to him.

Raze took it, his lip quivering. Something suddenly crossed Batman's face. His mouth twisted up in a look of emotion, sorrow, regret.

Maybe remembrance.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his gruff tone lighter now. The cloaked figure, in full black body armor, turned and moved away as sirens sounded in the distance from police cars and ambulances. With that, the Batman was gone and the first responders were rushing in, checking up on Raze. They were upstairs, downstairs, everywhere, searching for evidence.

Raze cradled his action figure closely. Even if no one knew who had saved him, _he_ knew. He would _always_ know.

Slowly, he looked down to the Batman action figure he held in his arms. "Thank you," he mouthed to the inanimate object. He only wished that he could have said it in person.

* * *

Raze sighed. He was able to say it in person, but now the one who had saved him was gone. The Blue Bat rested his hands on the sides of his utility belt, where twin pistols were hooked. He knew that Bruce had disliked his initial choice of carrying two guns and two swords.

"Weapons always lead to death," Bruce had told him once in a training exercise. "I don't do what I do to get revenge on those who have wronged me or others. I'm no final authority. The fate of the perpetrator is to be decided by the judge, jury, and executioner."

"Sometimes you need to become the judge, jury, and executioner," Raze had shot back. Bruce narrowed his eyes.

"You also need to learn perception and not to do what your emotions immediately tell you," he replied coolly. "You don't think I want to get revenge on my parents' killer for what he did to me? I spent the first three years of my career hunting him down. I was eighteen when I started this, Raze. When I was twenty-two, I realized how much that thirst for revenge had drained my life. I wasted what I had of my childhood. From the ages of thirteen to sixteen I was in a dark, brooding time. At seventeen, I tried to fit in with those who I went to school with. But I had become such a loner, such an outcast, I wasn't like everyone else. So when I was eighteen, I took it upon myself to become a hero. And I spent the rest of my life as a teenager to hunt down the man who killed my family. And where did I end up in that hunt? Nowhere, that's where."

When Bruce had told him that, Raze began to think of how close they really were to one another. They both lost all of their family at a young age. Bruce was only thirty-one, so he wasn't all that much older than Raze was, anyways.

Suddenly, a scream sounded down in the alley to the left of the building Raze was standing upon. Quickly, he turned to the left and gazed down to the darkness where he could see them: two brutes, one with a club and another with a chain, cornering a young woman against a corner against a dumpster.

Scowling, Raze took a few steps back, then he ran to the ledge, diving off. When he was just ten feet from the ground, he brought his blue-and-black cloak back, letting himself drift down to the asphalt ground, landing with a thud on his knees.

The two thugs turned around. The one with the chain twirled it around his arm. "Who the hell are you?" he asked. It was clear, however, that he didn't care.

Raze stood up to his full, six-one height. The blue spikes of his hair glimmered in the moonlight. "I'm the Blue Bat."

The one with the club snickered. "You'll be the Red Bat soon enough, dipshit," he muttered, raising his club. "Come on, punk. Show us if you're as bad as the ol' papers say ya are."

"With pleasure," Raze muttered, reaching behind the folds of his cape to grab one of the blue batarangs he had clasped to his utility belt. Quickly, he unfurled one from the small disc shape it was in into its full bat shape. Just as fast, he spun around, giving it a quick toss towards the club-bearer.

The man had just enough time to bring up his bat. The batarang embedded itself into the stick, and a small patch of it froze into an icy blue. The man looked at it in shock before snarling at him. Quickly, he charged his foe. "Get the girl!" he yelled at his companion, swinging his club wildly.

The man with the chain smiled wickedly, turning to face the young woman. A horrified look crept upon her face as she read what was written across the man's face. "No," she whispered softly. "Please don't."

Raze jumped into the air as the man swung his club, the batarang now a deadly sharp piece that could deal some damage to the young hero. As the first strike missed, Raze reached to one of the twin swords on his back, tearing it from its sheath. A white tip gleamed in the dim light as he pointed it at his foe. "Show me what you've got."

The club swung quickly at the sword, sparks flying as the batarang connected with the sharp point. Raze spun the blade around, gripping it with both hands as he swung it up, tearing it through the club. It split in half, narrowly above the man's fingers. His face flushed and he dropped the remainder of the club, backing up.

Raze brought his sword against the man's throat. "Beg mercy," he ordered, "or suffer the consequences of your crimes."

The man wrapped his hands together. "P-please," he muttered. Raze didn't do anything except bring up the weapon, smashing its hilt into the man's head, knocking him out. Quickly, he spun around, lowering his sword. He saw the man with the chain trapping the young woman against the filthy wall, a hand on the belt at his waist. Snarling a curse upon the man and his family, Raze darted for him.

Raising his chain, the man turned as he heard Raze's curse. He swung the metal links at Raze, but the young man batted it away with his blade. The man slugged out with a fist, but Raze ducked down and dodged it, jabbing out with an elbow into the man's hip. He grunted in pain, slamming into the brick wall beside him.

As he fell, Raze raised his sword, pressing the tip of it into the back of the man's neck. "Don't. Move," he ordered, the icy tone clear in his voice.

The man didn't move—for a moment. Quickly, he slung up with the chain, smashing it into the fingers that wrapped around the blade's grip. Raze cried out in pain, a searing burn flaring through his fingers. The sword flung away from his hand as the man climbed to his feet, swinging out with the chain. It smashed into Raze's chin, sending him to the dirty ground.

As Raze reeled in pain, the man moved back to the girl, who was cowering in fear. Before he could do anything, however, he sent a hand for one of his pistols, drawing it from its holster. Before the man could turn around, Raze fired the weapon, sending a burst of ice over the man's foot, trapping it in a thick coat to the cement.

As he turned around, Raze climbed to his feet, rushing the man. He sent out a foot, which connected with the man's chin. The man collapsed to the ground, crying in pain as a snap sounded from his ankle. Clearly, he was in a bad position, flying back with his foot stuck to the ground. Raze could only imagine the pain in the man's leg now.

 _It was his choice_ , he thought as he turned to the woman.

"Are you okay?" he asked, returning the pistol to its holster. She slowly nodded. "Y-yes. T-thank you," she muttered, a tear running down her cheek. Raze offered a simple smile, resting a palm on her shoulder. "Don't bother."

She leaned in slowly, giving Raze a quick peck on the cheek. Then, she turned and took off down the street. Raze turned to the injured man on the ground. "Now," he addressed him, "it's time to get you and your friend here booked in prison."

* * *

 **Here's the first "real" chapter, introducing Raze Landon-Wayne—also known as the Blue Bat. Can you guess yet which team he's going to join? This character was submitted by user JJ55. Let me know how you thought of the chapter, and what you thought of Raze's introduction and the character himself. Thanks for reading, and I hope you'll stay tuned for more action from the characters YOU'VE created!**


	3. Akihiko Minoto

The young man sniffed for, what was it, the thousandth time that day? He had a cold or something, he didn't know for sure. But whatever it was, it was bugging the _hell_ out of him.

Akihiko Minoto cracked his knuckles as he stood with his back upon a nearby post. He was standing in one of the worst spots in Gotham—which wasn't saying much, because many spots in Gotham were horrible—waiting for some thug, some creep, to come along and cause trouble.

Within moments of waiting, Akihiko saw the first target of the night. Some tall punk, with shaggy hair down to his shoulders and stopping just above his eyes, was looking about quickly. The young Japanese man gazed from beneath the cowl of his red hoodie and the tips of his crimson hair towards the newcomer. From what he could see, Akihiko recognized the punk as a wanted man.

Akihiko growled in the back of his throat, the deep and quiet noise sounding almost like a canine's. And the longer canine teeth he had didn't help matters much, either. Slowly, he moved down from the post down the sidewalk as the punk caught sight of a pair of teenage girls walking opposite the road from him.

 _What the hell are two teenagers doing out this late at night?_ Akihiko wondered. It didn't surprise him much, though; no one really cared one way or another what teenagers did, it seemed. In Gotham, teenagers were treated pretty much as adults when they weren't in school. The two, unsuspecting girls were unaware of the set of eyes following them, and the young man had crossed the road to move behind them.

Akihiko reached into his left pocket, turning down the volume to his iPhone, cutting down the sound radiating through his earbuds. When he pulled his hand out, Akihiko was holding a switchblade in his hand. Tucking it up into the sleeve of his hoodie, Akihiko stuck to the shadows and moved around to get a vantage point behind the punk.

He could hear the guy mumble something in slurred, slow words to the girls, but couldn't make out what it was. Louder than the man had spoken, one of the girls replied, "No thanks. Our stop is just around the corner."

 _He must've asked if they needed a ride,_ Akihiko decided. The two girls waved goodbye to the guy as they turned and continued on. Akihiko crossed onto their side of the street just as the guy pulled a metal pipe from within his jacket. "Watch out!" Akihiko yelled just as the man swung down the blunt object. The two girls turned around as the weapon smashed into her head, sending her sprawling to the ground. The other girl screamed and, after looking in agony on the scene before her, turned and sprinted off down the street. The man fingered his pipe and went after her.

Akihiko took off, removing the small blade from his sleeve. He looked down sorrowfully upon the unconscious woman. Quickly, he took off past her, flicking out the blade of his knife as the man overtook the woman ahead as her screams filled the alleyway.

"Let go of her!" Akihiko screamed, lunging at the attacker. The man turned just in time to see Akihiko tackle him into the nearby brick wall. As he grunted, the man brought up his pipe, catching Akihiko in the chin. The young man stumbled back, dribbles of blood coming down his chin. He bit back a curse as he jabbed out with the knife, missing narrowly. The man swung down with the pipe, smashing into his arm.

As the knife spun away into the shadows, the man gripped the pole with both hands and swung again, sending Akihiko sprawling into the street. The young man sent out both legs, catching the attacker in the gut and pushing him back into the wall. As he sank down, the man realized that Akihiko's discarded blade was mere inches away. Quickly, he grabbed it up, pointing it towards the Asian vigilante.

Just as the punk came at Akihiko, a picture from his past soared back into his mind.

* * *

Doctor Stanford came at Akihiko with the knife, his teeth gritting. "You sorry, pitiful excuse for a human being!"

His stab missed narrowly, jabbing into the wooden table where Akihiko had been thrown by Stanford's lab assistant, some brute named Jones. Akihiko offered a sly smile. "It's no wonder. I'm hardly a human being after what you did to me!"

Quickly, he rushed forward, tackling Stanford into a nearby glass case. The doctor shrieked as glass shattered into the man's back. Only a few scratched Akihiko's body, for Stanford's body blocked most of Akihiko's.

The younger of the two flipped over another table, landing on his knees. Quickly, he clambered back to his feet as Jones rushed him, his massive hands balled into fists. Just as Akihiko raised his own hands to go into what seemed like a pointless fight, three gunshots rang out. Blood spurted from the new holes formed in his torso as he sank down to his knees, the form of Akihiko's best friend, Maxwell Woodly, stood behind him, a handgun raised.

Ever since he had been taken at the age of ten from his parents after they were murdered, fifteen-year-old Akihiko was treated in the labs of Doctor Miles Stanford and given wolf abilities, such as faster speed, better teeth, and stronger leg muscles. Around the same time, Maxwell Woodly—whom Akihiko grew to know as Max—was taken in to be given powers as well.

Often, Max dreamed of getting out of the laboratories and becoming a hero liked the famed Batman. It had come to this point, when the two had formed an unshakable bond that the scientists kept trying to break apart. Akihiko had known of a stash of explosives that Jones kept hidden in case a subject escaped—little did he know that one day it would be used against him.

After the explosives were set, Akihiko and Max were able to break free from their cells and it had come to the current state, when Max had been given a splitting punch from Jones and Akihiko was thrown onto the table, where Stanford rushed him with the knife.

Akihiko smiled to Max. "Thanks," he said.

Max nodded. "Any time, Aki." Similar to the nickname "Max" that Akihiko called his friend by, Max knew Akihiko affectionately as "Aki." Max was the only one to have called him that, and, Akihiko had decided, he would be the only one to do so.

Akihiko pointed to the door. "Quick, we need to get outta here. No telling when this place will collapse." Max nodded his agreement as the two ran for the door. With his enhanced speed, Akihiko was able to move ahead of Max.

"Aki!" Max yelled out, causing his friend to drop. What he saw made Akihiko's jaw quiver.

"Max, drop!" he yelled back just as a trio of gunshots fired. The quick actions had reduced to milliseconds as the whole scene moved in slow-motion before Aki: the bullets ripping through Max's shoulder, flesh and cloth tearing away. Blood began to leak gradually from the teenager's shoulder.

His gun slipped from his hand and Akihiko quickly reached out, catching it. As he grabbed ahold of his friend, Aki raised the pistol and took careful aim at Doctor Stanford, who was shifting his aim from Max to the Asian teen. But he was too slow, as Akihiko fired shot after shot until Stanford had writhed into all sorts of positions, collapsing into the broken table and the shards of shattered glass.

Aki cursed him and hoped he was dead as he lowered Max to the ground, checking his pulse.

Max began to cough up blood. It was then that Aki realized that another shot had been fired and it went lower than his shoulder, and instead was going through his left breast. Just centimeters away from Max's heart.

"Dear God," Aki whimpered, tears forming in his eyes. Max's eyes fluttered and he reached up with a hand towards his best friend.

"A-Aki," he muttered as Akihiko took his hand.

"I'm here," he replied, offering a fake smile.

Max smiled back. "I-is it bad?" he asked slowly. Akihiko nodded in response.

Max bit back a curse. "P-promise me something, Aki. Please."

"What is it?"

"Aki," Max started, "I need you…to promise me…to live out our dreams of becoming heroes, just like…just like the Batman…"

Akihiko himself had never much looked upon the Batman in respect. He thought of him as a mere man who looked like a clown. "Really? He dresses up as a bat?" he used to say. But he knew right now that he couldn't deny his friend this promise. And besides, he wasn't going to _become_ the Batman.

"I promise. I'll become a hero, just like Batman."

Max flashed a quick smile to his best friend. "T-thank you, Aki. I…I always knew…I could trust on…you…"

And with that, Max's head rolled back limply. Akihiko let the tears fall as he stood and took off from the building, Max's gun in hand.

* * *

Akihiko rolled over as the man smashed into the ground with his knife, and the impact sent it flying from his grasp. As the man got back to his feet, Aki rolled onto his own and pushed up from the ground, drawing the sidearm that once belonged to Max and aimed it at the criminal.

"Don't try a thing," he ordered. The man slowly raised his hands, realizing that he was overtaken.

"I…I give up," he slowly muttered, gritting his teeth.

Aki turned to the teenage girl who was still standing there in shock. "Are you okay?" he asked, his pointed teeth bared. She slowly nodded.

"Yes." Her eyes suddenly opened. "Sam—she's back there!" Quickly, she took off in the direction of her wounded companion. Aki stepped towards his discarded switchblade, replacing it in his pocket. As he did so, he pulled out his iPhone and dialed for the GCPD.

"I've got a man here who has just tried to assault two women." The voice on the other end of the line told him that they'd send two patrol units out to intercept them, and Aki agreed. As soon as the sirens sounded in the distance, the man snapped his head to Aki.

"Look, man, you can't let 'em take me in. You don't know what'll happen to me if those coppers get their hands on me; they're all corrupt, every one of 'em. They wouldn't give a damn if the rest of the inmates there tried to skin me alive!"

Akihiko didn't show any sign of sympathy. "You should've thought about that before you tried to rape those two girls," Aki said, nodding in the direction of the two teenagers. The man looked to them, then back to Akihiko.

"Look—just please, forget this every happened. I'll never lay a hand on anyone else, I swear it!"

"That's probably just the same thing you said to the judge when you got let out on your last offense."

"No, I—"

Before the man could finish, Aki raised his gun and smashed the butt of it into the man's hand, sending him crashing to the sidewalk as the flashing lights of the police cars could be seen in the distance. Quickly, Akihiko Minoto—known to certain people as the vigilante "Hellhound"—took off into a dark alleyway, ready to meet the next task that came his way.

* * *

 **Here's chapter 2 of** ** _Defenders of Gotham_** **! Introduced here was Akihiko Minoto, known as Hellhound, who was created by user 0B13. Leave your thoughts on this character—and the chapter—in the review section. Until next time, goodbye!**


	4. Chris Myer

Nineteen-year-old Chris Myer peeked his head out of the door to his room inside his family's manor. One of the wealthier families in Gotham City, the Myers were among the higher-respected and higher class of citizens in Gotham's society.

It was up until his senior year that Chris wouldn't be doing what he was doing at the moment. Brought up as a polite young man under the conservative roof of George Myer, Chris was thought upon kindly of his father's business associates. When he attended an upper class party one night in his senior year, Chris was met by a mysterious man named Jonas Samuels, who was a hired hand to mob boss Carmine Falcone.

Falcone hired Chris for his good looks. While he was only eighteen, the young man was lean and slender, with plump and shapely lips and arched, thick eyebrows. Full cheeks and an angular face, accompanied by deep blue, almond-shaped eyes, added to his handsome physique, and his muscular limbs were a result of acrobatic training that he had taken to go out for sports teams.

The crime boss hoped for the young man's features to elicit information from Falcone's enemies. At first, Chris had rejected this job, but eventually took it due to the offers of money that he had received from the older man. By the end of his senior year, Chris built up his acrobatic skills and his espionage and seduction skills. Unwillingly, he had attracted the attention of numerous eyes from his school.

A week ahead of this day, Chris was contacted by Samuels—who had remained in contact with Chris throughout his career—and the older man had told Chris that he had made the acquaintance of an employer who wished to give Chris a token of his esteem and to hire him for a few missions. Chris agreed to it, and was now heading out to meet with his newest employer.

Chris slowly crept from his room, tiptoeing slightly. He had lied to his father and mother, telling them that he was going to bed early. They had bought it without a hitch; furthermore, Chris's father George was going to take his wife, Melissa, to a meeting with her counselor. Melissa was susceptible to random fits and outbursts, one of the factors that led to his disapproving thoughts of her and his father.

Chris snuck down the stairs quickly. His father was downstairs in the living room with his mother; if he moved quickly and quietly enough, he would be able to evade them. As he kept his head low, Chris moved swiftly towards the door. Stopping to listen for any movement, he heard no noise.

Slowly, he smiled as he opened the door slowly and rushed out into the night.

* * *

Chris kept his head down as he moved down the street, hands in his pockets. Several men and women littered them, huddled around fires. The Gotham weather had been rather cold in the past days, so it wasn't an uncommon sight to see the fires peppered throughout the streets.

The uncommon thing was that Chris was in a lower class street. Yes, he was often kept away from the dirtier parts of the city, confined to the high class estates and roads that richer families lived at. But the young man had found that most of his business took place in these lowly alcoves that he was walking through.

Somewhere distant, Chris could've sworn he heard a scream. A gunshot. Another scream. It was something that he had learned was abundant in the bad parts of Gotham. So far, in his career, Chris hadn't encountered anything too dangerous. Only a few scuffles here and there. Falcone, among other employers, had posted incognito security details near the places of business, so he felt fairly secure during his engagements. And the guards he had must've been good, because to this day, he wasn't sure which men were his bodyguards and which were just the normal passerby.

Chris checked his cell phone. Samuels had sent him an accompanying text that held the address of Chris's contact. "2249 Belmont Avenue," he muttered under his breath. He looked to the street sign at the end of the road. It said that Belmont was on the left.

Quickly following these instructions, Chris turned and moved down the dark street. A few dimly lit lampposts were scattered along the road, but a few either had no lights or were busted. Or both. He moved down the street, reading the numbers. Eventually, he came upon an abandoned place of business. The board with the establishment's name—something that looked like a florist's shop of some sort—hung above the door.

Slowly, Chris pulled the door's handle and took in a deep breath of air as he entered the building.

* * *

Chris clicked on the flashlight that was built into his phone. He carefully searched about the lobby of the store, but there was nothing to be seen. He could, however, see a light coming from the back of the store, from underneath one of the doors. He skeptically moved forward, his hands at the ready.

Once he got to the door, he raised a knuckle up to it and beat upon it slowly. "Hello?" he called softly.

A female voice—Chris felt that it sounded _seductive_ —answered him. "Come on in."

Gulping, the young man cut off the light, stuffed his phone into his pocket, and pushed the door open and moved inside.

The first thing he noticed was that the voice wasn't the only thing that was seductive. The woman who owned the voice was very much the same. _She's hot as all hell,_ Chris thought to himself as he stepped in. She was sitting on the edge of a couch, her arms wrapped around her legs. Sleeves that appeared too long for her came down past her fingertips, and, if he had to guess, Chris would've assumed she had no bottoms on. Maybe a small pair of panties or something, but other than that…she might as well have only had a top on.

Auburn-colored hair draped over her shoulders, and shimmering, red lips sat there, plump and almost begging to be kissed. Chris's own mouth quivered as he took in the gorgeous sight before him. Something seemed off about the woman though, despite her roaring beauty...

…Chris noticed that her skin bore an almost greenish hue to it…

Her red lips tugged upwards into a sly smile. "Come on," she said, reaching a hand down to rub the spot beside her on the rough old couch. "Take a seat," she added, licking her lips.

Chris moved quickly, taking a seat on the opposite edge of the couch. He suddenly realized that he was probably not putting on a good image, so he relaxed slightly and edged closer towards her.

"I…erm…I assume you're the contact I was to meet here?" Chris asked cautiously. The young woman smiled to him, her bright white teeth gleaming.

"Oh, yes. I contacted Mr. Samuels because I had something I'd like to give you."

Chris gulped. "Well…what is it?"

The woman slowly reached a hand down the front of her shirt, then quickly pulled it back out. She slowly unfurled her fingers, revealing a tube of chapstick. Chris had to do all he could to keep his eyes from lingering where she had taken it from. It was, after all, a prominent feature of her body.

Slowly, he reached his hand out and she placed the tube into his hand. She bit her lip as she inspected his face. "Samuels had told me that you were a handsome young fellow," she said, reaching a hand up to tuck a curl of his dark hair behind his ear. Chris felt his heart leap towards his throat at the touch. "But you are much better looking than he described you as."

Subconsciously, Chris let his mouth twist up into a smile. "Really?" he asked. She nodded, bringing her hand down to stroke his cheek. She had a delicate touch that was cool, yet warm at the same time. He quickly changed the subject. "Is this some special kind of chapstick?" he snapped quickly.

"Yes," she replied. "Whenever you put it on, your lips are coated in a formula that makes whoever you kiss invulnerable to you. They basically become your slave."

Chris's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Mhm," the young woman replied, taking it from his hand. "Would you like to test it out?"

The thought of kissing this girl was the thing that had been circulating through Chris's mind ever since he had laid eyes on her. He nodded, although he wasn't quite sure that he had meant to. He would be lying if he said that he wasn't going to, though.

As she applied it to her moist lips, Chris piped up: "How long does its affect last?"

"Well, it depends on how much of a coat you put on," she replied, finishing up applying it her bottom lip. She quickly went to do the top. "If you use one layer, it only lasts for about a half hour. If you use two, an hour, and so on."

She rubbed her lips together, smiling seductively to him. "You ready?"

Before he had even said no, the girl started to lean in towards him. Chris, naturally, did the same, and, within moments, their lips were locked. Before he knew what was happening, Chris was beginning to moan softly until the girl pulled back. Chris sat there, in a daze, as he blinked his eyes.

The girl's smile was still there. "Stand up, Mr. Myer." Chris slowly, without thinking, got to his feet. The woman stood up as well, her loose-fitting shirt stopping just mid-center of her bare thighs. "Repeat after me: 'I, Chris Myer,'" she started, crossing her arms.

"I, Chris Myer," he started, looking straight to her.

"…do so solemnly swear..."

"…do so solemnly swear…"

"…to follow any orders given to me," the woman finished.

"…to follow any orders given to me," Chris repeated, blinking again.

Quickly, the young woman smiled triumphantly. "See? Whenever I order you to do something, you do it."

Chris slowly nodded. "It's…brilliant."

"You're sure as hell right about that," she smiled, reaching a hand slowly to his chest. "Now…do you want to take the chapstick?"

Chris nodded again.

"Good," she replied, turning on her heel. "You can just wait around here for the next half hour, until the effects wear off." She stopped at the doorway, turning to him. "Until next time." She pressed an open hand to her mouth, blowing a kiss to him. Chris smiled, then called out:

"Wait! I forgot to ask your name."

But she didn't answer. Chris turned and saw a slip of paper on a desk pressed up against the wall. It read: _Call me at 294-3787. – Pam_

Chris smiled as he glanced back up to the door. He couldn't believe his luck.

* * *

 **Here's the fourth chapter! This time, we met young mister Chris Myer, submitted by Ramaeesh. And we got to meet a certain Batman character…what did you guys think of the introduction of both of these characters? Let me know in the reviews, and be sure to send me a PM with any questions. Thanks for reading, and I'll see you in the next chapter! And, for those who were wondering, Akihiko is Japanese.**


	5. Leo Aslan

_Get down._

Leo Aslan didn't give a second thought as the order came through his mind. Quickly, he ducked down, watching with a smile at his face as his snow leopard Felix dove over his back, tackling into one of the thugs with a roar.

The man began to howl as Felix bit deeply into the man's arm that he was blocking the feline with. His companion, a man clad in black clothing with a pistol drawn, raised his firearm to shoot Felix off of his companion.

Swiftly, Leo—the Ghost Cat—rolled onto his feet, ejecting the claws from his gloves. He quickly ran at the man as his finger wrapped around the gun's trigger. Before he could do so, Leo dove at him and swung his right hand at the attacker, his claws searing across the man's arm.

As the criminal shrieked in pain, sending his weapon flying as his arm dropped, he reached his hand up to cover the bleeding wound. Leo spun around, sending out a swift kick into the man's back and sending him sprawling to the ground. He let out a quiet cry, staggering to his feet.

The man on the ground sent his left hand, which had a knife in it, at Felix's head. The leopard let out a whimper as the wooden butt of the weapon struck him across the crown. The man grunted as he moved to get onto his feet, reaching to the ground where his discarded revolver was. As he picked it up, he spun the weapon's revolving barrel and aimed it at Felix as the leopard shook his head, baring his teeth.

"Felix!" Leo cried out. While the pair shared a telepathic bond, Leo insisted on speaking out loudly to his best friend. This was among the many things that the pair argued about. Felix flicked his eyes to Leo, sending him a message: _What?_

Leo answered by reaching a hand into one of the pockets of the outfit that was specked in black leopard spots, pulling it out of the gray material with a retractable blade in his hand. He quickly raised it up, sending it flying at the attacker of his best friend. The man shrieked out as the knife buried itself a few inches beneath his armpit, reaching a hand to the bleeding wound. As he toppled over into a heap on the ground, his companion's jaw dropped as he stumbled blindly to his discarded weapon.

Leo, without changing his gaze, flicked his arm to point the retractable claws at his opponent. "Don't try it."

The man's hand froze just above his gun. As sweat streamed from his forehead, the man's eyes quivered from his opponent to his weapon. Leo's steely gaze didn't falter from beneath the glowing lenses. The man finally raised his hands into the air. "I give up," he got out, gulping. "Just please, don't hurt me!"

Leo lowered his arm, the claws retracting into his gauntlet. "Get up," he ordered gruffly. The man obeyed his command. The look on his face showed that he hoped that he would get off—or, at the very least, get off easily.

He was certainly going to be surprised.

Suddenly, Leo sent out a fist and cracked the man across the chin with his knuckle. As the thug sunk to the ground, Leo raised a hand to the communication unit in his hear. He quickly set it to the GCPD's signal, muttering, "This is the Ghost Cat. Send a couple cars out to Jones Street; you'll find these criminals easily enough."

 _Hmph_ , Felix coughed. Leo snapped his head to the leopard.

"And just what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

 _Not even a thank you, I see. And I helped weaken that one guy for you._

"That doesn't matter. I still took him out."

 _Because I was sinking my teeth into his arm, that's how you were able to do it. I had him weakened._

"I would've been taken care of myself," Leo shot back.

 _Yeah. Just like you did against that girl that one time._

"Girl? What girl?"

 _You know "what girl." The one who was accusing you of those "horrific, cruel deeds." Remember, the nutcase girl who keeps on visiting you?_

"How does _that_ make her a nutcase?" Leo snapped, crossing his arms. The look on Felix's calm, unmoving face made it look as if he wasn't even speaking to his friend. It seemed almost as if he was smiling at him…

 _If you saw yourself, you'd see why. What girl in her right mind would want to keep seeing you?_

Leo smiled softly as he thought back to when he first met this girl that he and his best friend were thinking about.

* * *

Leo tilted the glass of water up, taking a deep sip of his liquid beverage. As he set it down, he turned to Felix as the leopard sniffed in the air.

"What're you doing?"

 _I'm busy trying to figure out who this intruder is in your place of business, Doctor L. J. Aslan,_ Felix replied. _Don't tell me you don't smell them._

Leo chuckled. "I'm sorry, I don't have senses like yours." He rubbed at the scruff of dark facial hair sprouting on his face, his stark white shoulder-length hair draped past his back.

Suddenly, the door to his office burst open and a young, rather pretty girl strolled in. Her dark black hair was wrapped in a ponytail on the back of her head, and several strands of her unruly hair were draped across her forehead. Light red lips were twisted downwards in a frown, and she looked almost as if she was about to snarl.

"You _bitch_!" she yelled, shoving Leo back.

He staggered against the nearby desk, reaching a hand out to steady himself. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, what're you doing?!" he exclaimed. Felix slowly rose to his four feet, a growl roaring deeply and quietly in the back of his throat.

"Trying to stop you from doing your…your _evil_ experiments on these poor cats!"

Her eyes flicked to Felix. "Not only cats. A leopard, even!"

 _I like this girl_ , Felix purred in Leo's mind. _She cares about us felines._

Leo ignored him. "Wait, wait! I'm not doing anything to these animals that is dangerous. I love animals, especially cats and their whole family line!"

The woman crossed her arms, huffing. Her chest pumped rapidly, and Leo's eyes slowly drifted down. She must've caught it, because she stepped swiftly towards him. His eyes flicked upwards, and he realized that he had made a mistake.

"Look," Leo started, raising his hands. "Felix, come up to me and show this girl how you think of me." The woman looked down at Felix as, hesitantly, he stepped towards his best friend. Slowly, he began to purr and rubbed against Leo's leg. The young man, a look of confidence on his face, lifted his eyes to stare at the young woman with ease now.

She slowly gulped, looking to the floor. Leo wondered if she was reconsidering her accusations. Quickly, she stepped to the side and went to his computer. "You got any files on here concerning your work?" she asked briskly.

Leo shook his head. The girl muttered another curse, and began to spit them out in rapid succession as she turned and searched the room for any files pertaining to his work. At least, that's what Leo assumed.

She quickly caught sight of his wall safe. She strolled over to it. "There's no point in doing that," he called out. "You'll never get in it."

The girl proved him wrong. She reached to her ponytail and withdrew one of the hairpins she had in it. Apparently she had several, because her ponytail didn't loosen. She quickly lowered her pin and began to fiddle with the lock. Around a minute later, she was able to open it.

Leo examined her with care. Not only because she was easy on the eyes, but because he was curious about what she actually _did_. The way she got into that safe easily showed that she must've done something concerning thievery. He just hoped she wasn't planning on anything that would cripple him financially or physically.

She shuffled through the papers and the look on her face showed that she hadn't found what she was looking for. "What the hell—you _don't_ do anything to these animals, do you?"

Leo ruffled his white hair. "Like I said, no."

 _At least, not at first glance._

Leo growled. _Shut up_.

Felix's eyes widened. _It's a miracle—he used telepathy._

Leo ignored him again. He extended a hand towards her. "Doctor Leo James Aslan. I study different members of the feline family, particularly big cats." He made sure not to mention anything concerning his past…his past in which he had been experimented on as a human guinea pig within different laboratories. It was both good and bad; he met with Felix that way and formed his bond with him—as well as developing his new powers—but he experienced lots… _lots_ …of pain.

She offered a sly smile. "Selina Kyle. I…I'm sorry about what happened. It's just that—well, I'd heard that you were doing cruel and dangerous experiments to this cats and I wanted to make sure. You see, I have a personal… _connection_ with cats."

 _You and I are much alike_ , Leo thought, smiling.

"Don't bother. I can see where you'd go wrong. Not much in the way of zoologists are here in Gotham."

Selina shook her head. "No, not really." She crossed her arms, dipping her head down. "I hate to run on such a short notice—especially after all this shit I've dumped on you—but I actually have an appointment right now."

Leo nodded. "Ah…I see." _I'd really like to see you again._

Almost as if she read his mind, Selina smiled. "I…I may be able to drop in another time, if I _have_ time."

Leo's smile grew wider. "I'll be waiting," he said, almost subconsciously.

Selina nodded, turning to leave. "All right. See ya." And with that, she left his office.

* * *

Leo finished tying the two men together, back-to-back against a metal pole. Neither had really come to, just bobbed their heads back and forth. Felix sat nearby, flapping his tail.

Tapping a key on his gauntlet, Leo waited until the light roar of his motorcycle—the Prowler—sounded. As it pulled up on its own, Leo climbed onto it and flung one leg over the side. Directly behind Leo was a second seat, where Felix sat. He quickly jumped up there; the concave structure of the seat was made specifically for the leopard, so he wouldn't have to worry about slipping from his pad.

"Let's get back home," Leo muttered, starting up the bike.

* * *

 **Here's the new chapter, introducing the new hero Leo James Aslan—the Ghost Cat. He was submitted by user W. R. Winters. Let both of us know what you thought of the character—and the chapter itself—in the reviews! Thanks for reading, and I'll see you in the next chapter.**

 **I also wanted to quickly say thanks to the support you guys have given to the story since the first chapter. It's been a pleasure to have an audience that enjoys what I'm putting out! Thank you all!**


	6. Sereina Vash

Sereina Vash sat on the back of her custom motorcycle, checking out the street before her. It was empty, which wasn't much of a surprise; it normally was.

Sereina sighed. It was a boring night. Just like every other night. Sereina had decided at an early age—earlier than her current age of twenty-one—that she would be there to help those who couldn't help themselves, like her sister Alessia, who died in a school fire at the age of six.

Ten at the time, Sereina felt it was unfair that her sister was the one that died; she still felt that way. Some had been hurt, and a number had died like her sister. She had been plagued with questions since that fire: Why wasn't Alessia just hurt? Why did she have to die?

Sereina blinked back a few tears as she thought about her playful, giggling sister. So much she had wanted to do with her, but so little time.

"It just isn't fair."

The words weren't spoken to anyone in particular, so Sereina didn't expect an answer. "You're telling me."

Sereina spun around, her silver skinny jeans shimmering in the moonlight. The rips in them showed her pale white skin, which contrasted with her coal-black motorcycle jacket. The coat covered her dark blue and silver corset, which she had picked out as her own crime-fighting outfit.

Stuffed in a pack on the side of her bike was her dark blue mask. If she had expected someone to walk up behind her in this alleyway, she wouldn't have left if off. Heck, she wouldn't have been so unprepared.

Her eyes flicked to the end of the scythe on the back of her bike. If she needed it quickly, she would have to move fast.

But that was no problem with her.

"Hello," she greeted the stranger with a mumble. The guy before her was tall and wiry, with thick black glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He smiled broadly at Sereina, his young face beaming with apparent happiness. The whole figure of the young guy was a unique mix of funny, cute, and a bit unsettling.

"Hi." The response was brisk, and Sereina didn't know whether or not that was a good or bad thing.

"Erm…my name's Sereina. What's yours?"

"Edward Nygma. I work for the Gotham City Police Department, forensics division."

 _Now he's right to the point. Better than worse, I suppose._ "I…well, I work…" She fumbled for the correct words as Nygma stared at her, apparently waiting for her to finish. "At home. It's…an online job."

"Ah. I see." His smile faltered for a bit, before it reappeared. "Oh. Oh! I get it now—it's a riddle, isn't it!" Sereina arched an eyebrow. "I just love riddles!" he cackled. "Now, let's see…"

Sereina shook her head, confused and a bit worried. "Well, no, I'm sorry, it isn't a riddle. It's…just a statement. I work online."

The smile disappeared again. "Oh. I see." He examined her bike quickly. "An interesting ride." He ran a hand down the chrome shell. His eyes flicked to her next. "And an interesting choice of clothing. I…I never think I've seen someone wearing a corset out on the streets before."

 _Easy for someone wearing a green tie to say…_

Nygma saw that she was looking at him curiously now. "Well…uh…I guess I'd better get going along now. I…well, I just got off of work and I saw you walking and I thought I'd say hello." He smiled again. "Well…goodbye."

Sereina nodded slowly, smiling back sheepishly. "Yeah. Bye."

Nygma turned on his heel and marched out of the alleyway, his slick black shoes pattering on the asphalt. Sereina gave the entire encounter a double take before shaking her head, climbing on the back of her motorcycle. "I'd better get out of here before some other nut shows up. One nut is enough for one night."

* * *

 **It's been a long time, hasn't it?**

 **I'm really sorry for not posting in a long time. However, I am now planning on getting back to writing on this story regularly. Thanks for reading and (hopefully) understanding! Let me know what you think in the reviews and PM me any questions about the story. This character in this chapter is Sereina Vash, also known as Vaina, created by POMForever.**

 **Thanks again for reading, and I hope you enjoyed. Until next time!**


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